“How about some Sunday evening?” Ashley asked, turning to Brenda. “I know you guys usually go to church, but that’s the only time Brad and I are both off at night. I could fix my fried chicken and some mashed potatoes.”
Brenda studied the young woman’s warm brown eyes and saw in them a reflection of her own frustration and loneliness. “That sounds wonderful, Ashley,” she said. “How about if I bring my chocolate cake?”
“Oh, that reminds me!” Esther cut in. “Charlie was making the rounds on his golf cart the other evening, and he swears he saw that backward boy…what was his name, Brenda? The homeless fellow who liked chocolate cake and slept on your porch swing?”
“Cody?”
“That’s him. Charlie said he saw Cody down by the lake, poking around on the dock. Charlie was about to run him off, but then he realized who it was and decided to leave him be. Figured he was probably looking for something to eat.”
“Oh, great,” Ashley said. “If that guy starts hanging around the neighborhood again, Brad is going to get so ticked off. He doesn’t want anyone touching his truck.”
“But this is just the kind of thing the TLC can take on,” Kim insisted. “If Cody comes into Deepwater Cove again, instead of being upset about him, let’s figure out how to help. Brenda wasn’t scared of him, were you?”
“Not at all. Cody’s like a child. In fact, I hope he does come back.”
“I’m not sure I’m going to be the best person to have in this club of yours,” Ashley murmured. “I work a lot of hours, and Brad has strong ideas about things, and…well…maybe you guys should go on without me.”
“No ma’am,” Patsy said firmly. “You have every bit as much right to share your ideas and opinions as anyone else, Ashley Hanes. I’m going to clear my schedule for next Wednesday at three, and I want to hear about Ashley’s supper and Brenda’s yard project and Kim’s and Esther’s efforts to keep that video store out of Tranquility.”
“What about you?” Ashley asked. “What are you going to do for the TLC?”
“I’m going to donate tea and goodies for everyone who comes to the club meeting.” She smiled and gave one of her highlighted curls a twirl. “Well, Kim, I see the school bus coming up the highway. Ashley, your nails are dry, so you don’t have to keep ’em spreadeagled on the table that way. Esther, it’s been good to see you today. Brenda, don’t be a stranger. And now I need to get back to my perm.”
As the women stood to leave, Brenda felt the first wave of peace and fulfillment she had experienced in months. For one whole hour, she had not mourned her children, gotten angry with her husband, or been tempted toward another man. Instead, she had been sent on a mission—one that might help a young friend. And she had been given hope that she and Steve might enjoy an evening out together. Cody possibly could return, and the basement would become her sanctuary for sewing and potting plants. Maybe Ashley would come over and make necklaces in the craft area. Or Kim could bring the twins by to play in the big backyard Brenda kept so perfectly manicured.
As she walked out of Just As I Am into the gentle spring rain, waved good-bye to the other members of the TLC, and climbed into her car, Brenda decided she didn’t need Nick LeClair to fill the empty place in her heart. She had friends, hobbies, and now even a tea club.
Maybe God had been listening to her prayers last fall when she had felt so alone and had cried out to Him in anguish. Maybe He was with her now, in the cold, stony silences when she couldn’t even bring herself to pray. Maybe—just maybe—things were going to be all right after all.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Steve took off his shoes and crept through the house, hoping he wouldn’t wake Brenda. Ever since Jessica had left to spend spring break with her boyfriend at Table Rock Lake, Brenda had resumed her bleak outlook. Steve was about ready to call that handyman from A-1 Remodeling back to work. At least with Nick LeClair in the basement, Brenda had something to keep herself busy, and she wasn’t quite so resentful when Steve had to work late.
Tonight had been one of those evenings when dinner at the country club just seemed to go on and on. He had tried several times to leave politely, but his client had come all the way from St. Louis to look at luxury lakefront homes, and she viewed the dinner as a way to evaluate each house room by room. Even so, Steve might have found a way to escape her, but this woman had been different. She promised not only a lucrative sale, but the possibility of a whole new venture for Steve.
If things at home had been normal, he would have loved to climb into bed, snuggle up next to Brenda, and tell her all about it. Before all this moodiness came over her, she used to kiss his neck and undo his tie and sit on his lap while he told her about his day. Steve had loved that. He would have done just about anything to feel his wife cuddling in his arms and kissing him.
As Steve had suggested, Brenda had gone to visit Pastor Andrew, but she hadn’t changed a bit for the better. Pastor Andrew recommended that she and Steve come in for some joint counseling…just to tweak their marriage back into shape after such significant life changes as Steve’s new line of work and the kids going off to college. But Steve had wanted nothing to do with that, especially since he felt sure Brenda was the cause of their problems. He told her to go to the doctor, and after that, they would talk about what to do next.
The Hansens’ family doctor had run some blood tests, asked Brenda a bunch of questions, and determined that she probably wasn’t yet starting the change of life. That sent Steve’s primary theory right down the drain. Fit, healthy, and active, Brenda appeared to be in great physical shape, the doctor had told her. He acknowledged that she might be struggling to adjust to the absence of her children, and he suggested a mild antidepressant. Brenda had turned him down. She wasn’t depressed, she had assured him. Just fed up.
So the Hansens were back to being two icebergs in bed, barely speaking in the morning, rarely calling by phone during the day, and almost never seeing each other at night. It reminded Steve of a scene in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, a book he had listened to Brenda read time and again to the children. The wicked, icy White Witch of Narnia had turned a faun and several other characters into stone. That’s exactly how the Hansen house felt, Steve thought as he tiptoed toward the master bedroom. Like Narnia, where it was always winter but never Christmas. And no promise of a thaw.
Drinking down a deep breath for fortitude, he slowly pushed open the bedroom door, praying it wouldn’t squeak. As he inched into the room, he noticed that Brenda’s light was on. Propped up on a stack of pillows, she looked at him over the edge of an open book.
“It’s nearly two,” she said.
Steve raked his fingers through his hair and dropped his shoes on the floor. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I figured you’d be asleep by now.”
“Where have you been?” Her voice was clipped, the words tight, as if struggling to emerge from a heart that was frozen solid.
“I was at the country club,” he said. “I had a client who wanted to—”
“What’s her name?”
Steve sat gingerly on the end of his side of the bed. “Uh…Mrs. Patterson. Jacqueline Patterson.”
“Was her husband with her?”
“She’s divorced. But, Brenda, don’t get the wrong idea here. Jackie has four grown children, and—”
“Oh, it’s Jackie? I thought you said Jacqueline.”
“Jackie is what she prefers to be called. See, the deal is that she wants a lakefront home with room for her kids—and then the grandkids when they come along. So I spent most of the day driving her around—”
“And then you took her out to dinner. Until two in the morning.”
Steve could see where this was going, and he suddenly felt hot and uncomfortable. He loosened his tie, unbuttoned his collar, and ran a finger around the back of his neck. An eight o’clock meeting in the morning meant that he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight, and the last thing he wanted to do with his few hours of downtime was argue with
Brenda.
Steve decided the best thing to do was end this nonsense and hit the hay. Brenda was acting strange, as usual, and he didn’t know how much longer he could take it. Pastor Andrew and the doctor had been of little help, and Steve couldn’t figure out where to turn next. If his wife didn’t get her head on straight pretty soon, he felt like he might explode. It was bad enough to be carrying around a briefcase filled with more projects than one man could manage. But then to come home at night and get the Spanish Inquisition…
“Listen,” he said firmly. “Jackie Patterson is a wealthy woman from St. Louis. She wants to invest in a large lake house, and I intend to be the agent who finds one for her. But Jackie is different from most of my clients. She’s got a head for business, and she knows what to do with her money. We had a long talk not only about houses but about other things.”
“Oh, really?” Brenda said, snapping her book shut. “You know, I had some things to tell you tonight, Steve. Things that are important and interesting to me. I had hoped to talk to you about my life and some exciting news that I have to share. But I guess Jackie Patterson and her money and her head for business were more attractive to you.”
“It’s not that way, Brenda!” He stood, wanting to flee. “You make it sound like I’m having an illicit relationship with the woman.”
“You’re having an affair.”
“I am not!”
“Yes, you are. If it’s not Jackie Patterson or someone else, it’s certainly your job. You love it. You nurture it. You’d do anything for it. You would sacrifice your marriage for it, wouldn’t you? I may only be good at choosing the right shades of green for a basement wall, but I’m not stupid. It hardly even matters whether there’s a woman involved, Steve. You’ve left me. You replaced your wife and our relationship with a real-estate agency, a precious bank account, and a bunch of rich clients.”
“I have not done that, and frankly I’m too exhausted to sit around here and get yelled at by you. I’ll sleep in Justin’s room.”
“You do, Steve Hansen, and you won’t ever get back into this bed. If you care about me at all anymore, you have to show it. You have to fight for me. If you aren’t willing to do that, then I don’t see how we can go on.”
“What are you saying? You want a divorce?”
“I don’t want a divorce. I would never want that. But who can live in a marriage that’s only a mirage? Every time I think I see hope ahead, I reach out…but there’s nothing to touch. We used to love each other, Steve. We used to enjoy spending time together. We would sit together and rock for hours on the porch swing or play half the day in the lake with the kids. You took time to ask me about what I had been doing, and at night you were always right here in bed beside me. But now your time belongs to someone else. All you want to do is be with your mistress.”
“Brenda, would you stop saying that? There’s no mistress, and I’m not having an affair. How can you even think I’ve abandoned our marriage in favor of my job? Lots of people work hard, long hours. I’m one of them, and it feels good. For once in my life, I’m proud of myself. People admire and respect me. I’m accomplishing important things, and I like that a lot. I’m finally a success…but you’ve put me in the doghouse for it. You won’t touch me. You treat me as though I’ve got some kind of disease. If I even get near, you run in the opposite direction. We have no love life. We might as well be strangers. Tonight when I came into the house, I thought how nice it would be to hold you in my arms and tell you about everything that’s going on at the office. But then you started in on this ridiculous nonsense about an affair. All you ever do is attack me…that, or shun me.”
“What wife would want to wait up until two in the morning while her husband spends his entire day with another woman? You can’t expect me to feel tender toward you if you treat me like that.”
“Like what?” Steve yanked off his tie. “I’m not treating you like anything. You’re the same wife I’ve been married to all these years, and I’m not doing anything different toward you. It’s not me who’s different—it’s you. I don’t freeze you out every time you come near. I don’t make accusations about you having an affair with someone. I just do my work and try to be a good man. Why does that make you so angry?”
Brenda flopped back on the pillow and shut her eyes. Steve could tell she was trying not to cry. Her chin quivered and her nose began to turn pink. If she hadn’t just insulted him, he might go over and try to comfort her. But he couldn’t trust Brenda anymore. What if he attempted a touch of tenderness and she lashed out at him again? He honestly didn’t know what to do with her, and he was so worn-out from working all day and then trying to shore up his collapsing marriage that he just couldn’t think straight.
“Listen, honey,” he said in the most gentle voice he could muster. “I love you. I do. I always have, and I always will. I don’t know what the problem is, but if I could fix it, I would.”
She covered her eyes with her hands, pressing back tears. “Here’s the problem,” she told him, a sob echoing in her throat. “You don’t need me anymore. My husband doesn’t have time for me.”
Steve glanced at the clock through bleary eyes. He shook his head and groaned. “For pete’s sake, Brenda, how can you even say that? We live in the same house. We have three great kids together. We’ve been married nearly twenty-five years. How much more of me can you possibly want?”
“Minutes,” she said. “Hours.”
“You’ve had me nearly half an hour tonight, and all you’ve done is yell at me and accuse me. Look, I’ve got a meeting at the title company at eight, and I need to do some prep work in the office before that. I don’t know how to do this marriage any better than I’m doing it, all right? I’m a good man. I’m being the best person I know how to be. And if that’s not enough for you, then…well, then I guess it’s up to you. Decide what you want, and let me know.”
With that, he stood and walked into the bathroom. He could hardly believe the words Brenda had been throwing around. Affair. Divorce. Surely things couldn’t be that bad between them.
As he brushed his teeth, Steve thought about Jackie Patterson and her interest in putting seed money into his agency. Jackie thought Steve ought to purchase property as well as move into the commercial side of the real-estate market. She saw the big picture, and she made Steve feel as though he was capable of accomplishing anything he set his mind to.
Brenda was right about one thing. He didn’t enjoy spending time with his wife. Why should he? A woman like Jackie Patterson was interesting, supportive, and intelligent. Even though she was older than he, she was very attractive. If she reached out to him, he might find it hard to hold back.
Steve felt sure he would keep his marriage vows to Brenda, but she wasn’t making it easy with all her whining and complaining. Each day that passed, he found it more and more difficult to keep his mind from wandering where it shouldn’t go. So he focused on his business instead. And then, when he couldn’t postpone it any longer, he finally drove home to the frozen wasteland of Narnia.
Stripped down to his boxers, Steve stepped into the bedroom. As he climbed under the covers, he noticed that Brenda’s light was off. He reached over, hoping for at least a touch, but her side of the bed was empty.
“Brenda?” he murmured.
Glancing down the hall, he spotted the light on in Jennifer’s old room. So Brenda was the one who had left their marriage bed after all. He thought about mustering the energy to get up and walk down there and try once again to fix the tangled mess of their relationship. Laying his head back on the pillow, Steve closed his eyes. And that’s when he realized this was the first peaceful moment he’d had in his own home in a very long time.
“I reckon that basement of yours ought to be about done by now,” Pete Roberts said early Monday afternoon. He slipped two rotisserie hot dogs into a paper sack, dropped in some packets of mustard and ketchup, and stuffed a handful of napkins on top. “I guess I’ll have to start cutting back on
how much I order from my food and condiment supplier. You and Nick LeClair have been keeping me in the hot-dog business for quite a while.”
Brenda smiled at the bearded man as she took the sack. “Don’t cut your order too low. Summer’s almost here, and that means your traffic should pick up a lot.”
“I hope you’re right. It was pretty dead around here last week. Spent most of my time building that soundproof wall between here and the salon.”
“Does it work?”
“No idea. I’m waiting for a leaf-blower or chain-saw repair to come in. That’ll really put it to the test.”
“Poor Patsy. Pete, you have to know that you’ve just about driven that lady out of her mind.”
“Aw, she loves coming over here and getting up on her high horse about all the noise. You’d think she was a schoolmarm the way she goes to pointing here and there, chewing me up one side and down the other, and threatening to call in the law. We have a good time.”
Brenda had to laugh. “I think she might see it a little differently.” “Don’t let her fool you. Patsy’s sweet on me; that’s for sure.”
“Sweet on you? Pete, can I be honest?”
“Sure. I can take it.”
“I’ve known Patsy a long time, and she is awfully persnickety about certain things. The truth is, Pete, half the time you smell like catfish bait, and the other half you smell like engine grease. If you want Patsy to be sweet on you, you’ll have to do a little better on your grooming.”
“You really think she cares about a thing like how a man smells? Especially one as big and tough as me?”
Again, Brenda chuckled. “Just go next door and you’ll see what Patsy Pringle likes best in a man. Nothing puts a smile on her face like a client with a nice close haircut, a clean shave, and maybe even a little cologne. As for herself, she always wears pretty dresses and skirts, and she’s got the nicest shoes of anyone in Tranquility. Her makeup is always perfect, and her hair—”
It Happens Every Spring Page 16